In His Fevered Dreams - The Black Stag
by TheBlackStag
Summary: In a very private therapy session between Will Graham and his therapist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Will reveals an intimate dream that affects his doctor too. That dream pits the hunted against the hunter in ways neither can imagine.
1. Chapter 1 - The Black Stag

**Dream #1 - The Black Stag (A recorded session between Will Graham and Dr. Hannibal Lecter)**

**[RECORDING BEGINS: The voice of Will Graham]**

I dream of a black Stag in rut. Under a full moon the massive beast crashes through a thicket when it sees a suitable mate. Its eyes glow red and it breathes fire. The thunder of its hooves vibrates the ground. I can feel the pounding through my bare feet. I'm naked. The sensation tingles up my legs. As it travels towards my belly, I feel my cock get hard. I don't know why this excites me, yet it does.

I want to be the Stag, but I'm not.

When the black Stag approaches the female, it does not stop. It dominates. It controls. It rises off the ground with its chest heaving and its eyes burning crimson. Its hooves flail and the beast grunts when it mounts her from behind. The female cries out when the Stag shoves into her. I see the whites of her eyes. She's afraid, but she doesn't resist. It is Nature's way. She doesn't have a choice. Her only duty is to let it happen.

I am standing too close, but I don't move. I want to see everything…feel everything. When my mind connects to the female, I feel the Stag enter me. I gasp and cry out with the pain. He is much too big for me. I can't take his length, but like the female, I have no choice. He pushes into me and I feel the heat of his girth fill me.

The Stag's hooves cut at my back. I grab for a tree and hold on as the beast pounds into me. Its massive body shudders with every thrust. I carry the animal's weight and I feel it shoving deep inside me, all the way to my belly. The thud of its hooves becomes more frantic and loud as it struggles to claim me with every inch.

_Harder! Deeper!_

I'm crying now as pain mixes with my own orgasm. I spew hot cum to the ground at my feet. My stiff cock flails with every spurt and the beast's grunting matches the rhythm of my throbbing heart. The pain is excruciating, yet I don't want it to stop. The animal swells inside me and brings tears to my eyes.

_Damn it! Let go…do it!_

The animal's girth explodes hot seed into me. It shrieks deep in its throat and spasms against my back as it shoots every drop up my ass. I feel its fur against the bare skin of my butt as it slows its manic thrust. The beast has impaled me and is still deep inside.

When it finally pulls its length from my anus, every inch is agonizing torture because I know the beast is done with me. The animal has stretched me and marked me for no one but him. When the bulbous head pops free and releases me, it's over. I collapse to the ground and double over, still feeling the Stag in me, filling me with its seed.

On the cold ground, I clench my butt cheeks to hold every drop of the animal inside me. I know this is foolish. I cannot hold the beast, even though that does not stop me from trying. That's when I usually wake up, feeling exhausted…and lonely. **[RECORDING ENDS]**

_The Office of Dr. Hannibal Lecter_

Dr. Hannibal Lecter panted as he shoved his stiff penis into Will Graham, straining for orgasm. With his hands grappling Will's shoulders for leverage, he struggled and pushed to get every inch into him. He thrust harder and faster, not caring if it hurt. He only wanted one thing. Will moaned and cried out with primal grunts as he shoved into him and he relished the feel of his balls slamming against Will's pliable butt cheeks. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh only aroused him to push harder. Hannibal felt the fire start in his balls before it spiraled through his shaft. The heat swelled until it could not be contained. He cried out and arched his back, spilling his seed into the object of his complete addiction. He shuddered with every drop.

When he looked down, Will's eyes were wide and his skin looked flushed as the young man clutched the desk, laying flat on his belly. He winced in pain, yet in his expressive blue eyes, an odd euphoric ecstasy lingered. Hannibal loved seeing that expression on Will's face, especially in profile after he'd mounted him and shoved in to the hilt. The hint of Will's pleasure made Hannibal feel as if his brand of therapy—administered to his special client—had done the socially awkward young man some good.

Hannibal collapsed onto Will's back and listened to the beat of his heart, an organ that would taste utterly delectable braised in a fine vintage Cognac. When he couldn't tarry any longer, he pulled his spent manhood from Will and assessed the damage.

He had the young man bent over his desk with his pants and boxers pooled at his boots. The urgency had struck Hannibal hard this time. Once he had hypnotized the young man and prepared him to do his bidding, he had made the mistake of playing the recording of Will's dream to set the mood, the recording that he couldn't get out of his head from their last session.

The Stag had brought out the beast in him, too.

Hannibal hadn't been patient undressing Will this time. Like a young man with his first male lover, he had yanked, pulled and prodded his way to take off the bare minimum. He only wanted one thing and he got it. Normally he liked Will completely naked. He craved the fullness of his well-shaped ass. Spreading his generous cheeks and pressing into him was a glorious pleasure not to be rushed.

As a rule, he took great joy in meticulously preparing young Will for their sessions. He often sang as he did so, applying a dab of lubricant to his finger and gently pushing it into his tight opening. He worked his sphincter with one finger, perhaps two, and sometimes three when he wanted Will to grimace. He loved easing his fingers in and out, through the tight ring as if he were tenderizing a good cut of meat, preparing young William for the choicest cut of all.

But after he'd listened to the recording of Will Graham's session for the third time, he indulged his impulse to become Will's Stag and take him rough. No lubricant. No foreplay. It's what Will wanted, yet would never say. The younger man's dreams were always vivid, a product of his empathic mind and they melded well with the reality the doctor wanted to manipulate in him. Their sessions had become an addictive pleasure—a dangerous game—where the hunted dared to impale the hunter and get away with it.

"Stand up, Will."

Will pushed off the desk and did as he was told. He didn't turn around. Hannibal had trained him well. He ran fingers through his wavy dark hair and smiled.

"Good boy."

When Hannibal glanced at the top of his desk, he saw what he expected to find. Will had spilled his seed, too. Milky stickiness was smeared across his desktop.

"Now turn and face me."

Will obeyed again. His expression was blank and he never met his gaze, not even when Hannibal lifted his shirt and touched his taut belly. He dragged a finger across Will's stomach to come away with his usual prize.

"I love the way you taste, my young friend." He stuck his loaded finger into his mouth and licked, savoring the tantalizing experience as if Will were a fine Bordeaux. "And your smell is irresistible after you come."

He moved closer to Will and took a deep breath, letting his nose trail an inch from his skin. He nuzzled his neck and licked his ear until he felt the stirring of another erection. He thought long and hard about indulging in an extended session with Will. He always enjoyed tying Will to the ladder that led up to his office library—fully naked—to have access to every side of the young man, front and back. But that would have to wait for another day.

"Alas, I do not have time for another session with you, Will. I'm hosting a dinner party with colleagues."

Hannibal gave another command and watched as Will cleaned the sperm from his desk—his sperm. With patience and gentleness he hadn't shown earlier, he dressed Will and enjoyed every button and zipper as if he were dressing a small child. He especially enjoyed tucking in Will's shirt, stealing another feel of his ass as he hugged him to his chest and indulged his fingers. When he was done, he looked Will over and adjusted his collar with a smile. He loved seeing Will in an obedient stupor, knowing he would be compliant and willing.

"I will count to five. When I am done, you will awaken. You will be fully refreshed and remember none of our session today. If your anus hurts and leaks fluid, you will disregard this. You will believe it is another hallucination caused by the Stag in your dreams and you will tell no one, except for me."

He plunged his tongue into Will's mouth, relishing the taste of him. When he pulled away, he began the countdown he dreaded.

"One." He sighed. "You will not ever forget the magnificent black Stag in your dreams, William. You invented him for a reason. You _need_ him. Two."

He pressed his hand to Will's crotch and took a firm hold, watching the young man flinch. He couldn't resist touching him when he was in this vulnerable state. Hannibal took every liberty as if it would be his last session with Will Graham.

"Three. You will remember the Stag's dominance over you—the way he made you feel submissive to his will—and you will crave that feeling again and again."

He took Will's face in his hands and caressed his cheeks with a tenderness he would never show the young man if he were fully conscious. Will Graham would've rejected the intimacy from a man—from anyone.

"Four. Remember that when you had a choice, young Will, you chose to be the female. In the presence of the black Stag, you will always make the same choice."

He took Will by the hand and led him back to the chair he'd been sitting in. Already Will's breathing had changed and his eyelids fluttered. He would be awake soon. All he needed to open his eyes was one word that Hannibal fought the urge to say. Hannibal knelt between Will's knees and rested his elbows on the young man's thighs, staring at the one person who could bring him down.

That was the thrill. That was the rush.

"Come to me at midnight. My home. My bed," he whispered in Will's ear and kissed his cheek one last time. "I will be your Stag again."

Hannibal moved to sit in the chair opposite his client and smiled.

"Five." When Will opened his eyes, he said, "Can you hear me, William? How do you feel?"

Will Graham winced when he moved in his chair, as if it hurt to sit. He looked confused as his gaze shifted around the room until it finally came to rest on the bronze statue of the Stag that Hannibal treasured and a contented expression warmed his face.

He dared to smile—a gift Will rarely shared with anyone.

"I feel…good. Really good. My headache is gone and I feel…rested." When he sighed and looked at his watch, he realized their session had ended an hour ago. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize I'd kept you."

"Every minute was my pleasure, dear Will. Truly."

Will stood and adjusted his pants, still appearing confused as he headed toward the door and said, "Same time next week?"

"Yes, unless you have another urgent dream to share with me." Hannibal grabbed Will by the neck and gave a playful squeeze. "Then I will be all yours."


	2. Chapter 2 - Le Réveillon

**In His Fevered Dreams**

**Chapter 2 – **_**Le Réveillon** _

**_The Home of Hannibal Lector_**

**_Midnight_**

"I don't know why I'm here. I mean, it's midnight." Will glanced at his watch as he stood on the threshold of Hannibal's front door. "On the dot, exactly. I felt this incredible urge to come."

"I see that." Still dressed in a suit and tie, Hannibal smiled at the young man and ushered him into his home. "Please come in, Will. You are my friend. You're always welcome to come here."

_Obedient Will_, Hannibal thought. He'd planted the seed of a hypnotic suggestion in the session he'd conducted with the FBI profiler earlier in the evening. It would be a simple matter of saying the key word that would put him under his control again, but Hannibal drew pleasure in toying with young Will—his idea of a tantalizing foreplay.

After Will stepped into his dining room and saw the remnants of his dinner party, he almost turned to leave.

"I'm sorry. Did I disrupt a meal? Do you still have guests?" He shook his head. "I can leave."

"Nonsense. We are alone. Your timing is perfect. May I offer you something sweet, Will? I have just the thing." Hannibal smiled. "Have you heard of a _Le Réveillon__? In France and in other French speaking cultures, it means 'long dinner.' You can be my reason to indulge in my favorite repast. Come. Join me."_

"Can I help you clean up?"

"If it makes you feel better about being here, yes. I will let you help me prepare for our treat."

He raised an eyebrow as Will walked past him into the kitchen and he followed.

"What can I do to help?"

"You can get the bowl of fresh whipped cream I have in my refrigerator. Also, you'll find a delightful sauce made from unpitted cherries…and something that looks like custard. Oh, and we must have a generous drizzle of chocolate, a personal indulgence of mine, I'm afraid. That will do nicely to start." Hannibal pulled out a silver tray and placed it on his counter. "Set everything on this tray while I select a nice Cognac."

"What do you do with the pits…from the cherries?" Will looked confused. "I know what _I'd_ do if I were at home, but you don't seem the type to see how far you can spit them."

"You are a delight, Will, but why don't you let me worry about what to do with the pits."

Will looked even more confused. Hannibal crooked the corner of his lip in amusement and poured one snifter of Cognac. If Will had been paying attention, he might have noticed the serving for only one and questioned it, but he didn't.

"Oh, perhaps there is one more thing I will need." Hannibal stepped up behind his guest as Will finished arranging the silver tray and he whispered in his ear. "I will need you, too."

When Will turned, with a perplexed expression on his handsome face, Hannibal didn't give him time to think before he said the key word that would put him under his control.

"Clafoutis."

Will's blue eyes glazed over and he stopped moving. He stared at nothing, waiting for a command. Hannibal smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the ground.

"For your continued education, young Will, a Clafoutis is a rustic French baked dessert, made with berries in a batter similar to custard." He lowered his eyes to Will's chest as he spoke, tracing a fingernail around his nipple until it tightened. "I prefer unpitted cherries. They produce a much stronger cherry flavor. I picked the word because you remind me of a plump sweet cherry. Quite delectable…and juicy."

Hannibal took a dollop of whipped cream with a fingertip and mounded it on one of Will's nipples. The chilled treat constricted the skin of his aureola into a tight nub. Hannibal lowered his lips to the sweet teaser and sucked it in, along with Will's tight offering. When the young man groaned, Hannibal savored the moment with every lap of his tongue, feeling the ecstasy of the moan rumbling in Will's chest.

"You are better than a sweet cherry, William. Now bring the tray you prepared and join me in the dining room. Place it on the serving table."

As Will did as he was told, Hannibal grabbed a remote and flipped on his favorite concerto. He shut the draperies to insure he would have complete privacy and moved a full length mirror into position, lining it up perfectly with the table.

He swirled and sniffed the bouquet of the Cognac as he watched young Will set down the tray of sweet delights. Hannibal let his mind ponder what he would do with him. It did not take him long to decide.

"Look at me, Will."

Blue eyes met his. The strained look on Will's face told him _that_ demand would not be painless. Even under hypnosis, Will did not like to make eye contact.

"Take off your pants. Everything goes, but keep your eyes on me until I say otherwise."

Hannibal watched as Will's fingers unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, without taking his eyes off him. His lips trembled and his hands became shaky, but he did as he was told. Hannibal stepped closer to him, not making it easy. When he got within a foot of Will, he kept his eyes on his patient as he breathed him in. Will's uncertainty and underlying fear was as intoxicating as the Cognac.

Predictable to a fault, Will folded every stitch of his clothing neatly as he did at his own home in his bedroom dresser, even his underwear.

"Put your clothing on the floor near your boots."

Hannibal finished his Cognac and poured another as he felt the burn of alcohol and lust spread through his body after seeing a naked Will bend over to place his clothes on the floor.

"Now come to me. I am the black Stag…and you are my mate. You cannot refuse me…anything." He tempered his voice to a whisper and lifted Will's chin to force him to look him in the eye. "Your body is mine to do with as I please."

Will shook as he stood in front of him. His flesh rippled with goose bumps and his nipples were hard. When his gaze strayed, Will tried to maintain eye contact and failed. But even as unsure as he looked, Hannibal noticed he had the start of a burgeoning erection. Whatever Will had on his mind, he could not hide from his body.

He grabbed Will by the neck and shoved him toward one end of the long cluttered table. Not wanting to take the time to clear it, Hannibal sent the dirty dishes and place settings crashing to the floor. He smiled when he noticed Will's erection bob.

He could have been gentle, but that wasn't what Will truly wanted. The young man wanted to be dominated and ravaged by a wild beast. Hannibal could definitely oblige. After he unzipped his slacks, he let them drop to the floor. Expecting a visit from a midnight caller, Hannibal had not worn underwear. His erection sprang free, ready to claim young Will. He shoved the young man to the table on his back and pulled his hips toward him with a jerk, until his butt dangled off the edge. He had to make sure he'd have leverage to hit Will's sweet spot.

Like a chef preparing a favorite dish, he went to the sideboard, looking over the contents of the silver tray. He quickly settled on the custard and slathered some on the tip of his engorged penis, before he returned to his guest.

"Lift your legs and spread them," he demanded. "Do not make me ask you twice."

Will grabbed his legs and hoisted his body. The muscles of his lean belly made Hannibal's body react. With a raging hard on, dripping with pre-cum, he stared down at the tight dark cherry Will offered him. His sphincter puckered. It would be a snug fit, but Will had given him complete access to his rigid opening—willingly.

Seeing the young FBI profiler with his legs splayed before him, like a splendid feast, almost brought tears to Hannibal's eyes as the symphony music built to a crescendo he knew well.

"The Stag wants you, Will. He dreams of taking you, over and over. Filling you. This time he will go deeper. You want that, don't you?" Before he got an answer, Hannibal stuffed a linen napkin into Will's mouth. He considered it a mercy. "Bite down on this when you scream. You'll need it."

Hannibal shoved his shoulders into Will's raised legs. When he did, the motion lifted his hips to give him deeper access. He targeted Will's tight entrance and pushed. Will cried out. Tears drained down the cheeks of his red face and the veins on the side of his neck strained, but the sound of his muffled agony only made Hannibal shove harder.

When Will's firm ring popped open enough, Hannibal slid inside to the hilt, feeling every inch of the younger man's clutching muscles. He heard a cry bellow from the depths of his own belly as he stroked in and out. His body became a piston, ramming in and out of the tight hole.

"This…is…glorious," he panted. "I am the Stag. I take what I want."

Will screamed into the gag in his mouth, his eyes closed tight as Hannibal drove into him.

"I am the Chesapeake Ripper, Will. You know that, don't you?"

Will didn't answer. He clutched the edge of the table, using both his hands, and held on—crying now.

"You…are more like me…than you know, young Will. You are here for a reason that your mind has not yet grasped."

Hannibal grunted and pushed harder. When he looked up, he saw his reflection in the mirror across from him. He almost lost it. He still wore his suit, dress shirt and tie, looking suitably dressed for a concert. But writhing under him was Will. His legs were splayed over his head. His toes were curled and his feet were flailing in the air, in rhythm with Hannibal's thrusts. His own face had a fine sheen of sweat that he felt all over his body as he shoved harder and faster, pumping into Will.

As the music grew louder, nearing its zenith, Hannibal climaxed at the crest of it. He shot his seed into Will.

"Arrghh. Yes. Yes!" Wave after wave, his body shuddered, spewing every drop.

He collapsed, completely spent, onto the thrashing bent body of Will Graham. He stopped the young man from moving. He wanted his cock to stay warm in its sheath. Hannibal clutched Will to his chest and held on as he spasmed in exhaustion. With each shudder, he shared every drop of his seed with Will.

The music had stopped, leaving only the sounds of their panting. When Hannibal finally pulled his length from Will, he took his time. Every quarter of an inch felt glorious. As the head of his cock popped free, he stood over Will and looked down. The young man had lowered his legs and looked utterly depleted, sprawled before him. Still with the linen gag in his mouth, he had his eyes closed with his chest heaving.

Hannibal ran his hands down Will's muscled chest and taut belly. His guest had the lingering stiffness of an erection. Being the hospitable host, he knew what to do.

"With the long dinner, Will, there must be time for dessert," he panted, with a smile. "But do not worry, my fine delectable young friend. This time…will be about you. I've been told I have excellent skill with my tongue. You be the judge."

Hannibal went to the serving table and retrieved what he would need. He drizzled chocolate and cherry juice over Will's body and placed a dollop of custard and whipping cream in strategic spots that Will would surely find pleasurable. As he spit a cherry pit across the room, he made a mental note on where to seat the lovely Dr. Alana Bloom for his next dinner party, in the very spot he'd shot his seed into Will's tight ass. That would have amused him more, but when Hannibal reflected on the only downside to his time with the FBI profiler who hunted him, he became melancholy.

Will would not remember any of this, but alas, that's how it had to be. The memory would be all his to keep and that suited Hannibal fine.

**Will Graham's Farm House**

**_Wolf Trap, Virginia_**

**_4:00 AM_**

Beverly Katz got an urgent call from Will Graham that sent her driving to his place in a hurry. From the sound of his voice, she didn't question his need. A call in the middle of the night—from any other man—would have her wary that it would be nothing more than a bootie call.

Will had asked her to bring a crime kit—nothing "bootie" about that. Although Beverly could think of many fun ways to use a crime kit with a naked Will, she'd given up hope that he would ever need her for that.

She drove through his gate and headed for the lit farm house. The dogs were barking as she got out and shut her car door, carrying the kit. She didn't have to knock. Will had flung the door open and pulled her inside.

Beverly smiled. That's how he would be in her fantasies too—minus the dogs.

"What's so important, Will?" She grimaced when she saw the expectation and worry in those beautiful blue eyes. "You wanted me to bring a crime kit? Why?"

"I had another blackout. I don't know what happened to me, but I need you to take a DNA sample." He went on, not bothering to explain his request. "I want you to run the analysis through CODIS. If you get a hit, bring the results to me. No one else. This has to stay our secret, Katz."

With CODIS being a national repository database for DNA, law enforcement used it to share information across the country on criminal cases. Unidentified DNA samples, that had been connected to a crime, could later result in the criminal being caught once a name got connected to the sample.

"I can't guarantee that. Not till I know more. "Splain it to me, Lucy." She crossed her arms.

Will wouldn't look her in the eye. His breathing had escalated and his cheeks looked flushed. She let him off the hook by asking him an easier question.

"Where's this sample you want me to swab?"

Will Graham shut his eyes tight and clenched his jaw. For a long strained moment, she didn't think he would answer. Eventually he did—by slowly unzipping his pants and letting them and his boxers fall to the floor—another of Beverly's fantasies.

"Be still my heart…" she whispered under her breath.

After Will pointed to the obvious, Beverly set down her kit and kneeled in front of his impressive penis. She couldn't help but fight a smile, but Will looked too serious for her usual schtick. She took out a pair of latex gloves and squeezed into them. She pressed her lips together hard, barely holding it together—especially after something unusual caught her attention.

"Wait." She held up his penis with her gloved hand and sniffed at it. "Will, your junk smells like…chocolate…and cherries."

"Shut up, Katz. Just get it over with."

Will rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. She wouldn't get anything more out of him. _Hell yeah_, she'd keep his secret. She wasn't going to get righteous about using a national database until she knew everything. As she swabbed his dick, running the cotton tip up and down the length of him—taking her time—she _had_ to say it.

"Best. Job. Ever."


	3. Chapter 3 - In the Afterglow

**In His Fevered Dreams**

**Chapter 3 – In the Afterglow**

**_The Office of Hannibal Lecter_**

**_Next Day_**

After yesterday and last night, Hannibal could not get Will Graham out of his mind. The smell of him lingered in his nostrils and the taste of him stayed blessedly in his mouth and on his lips, sensations that usually remained from their encounters, but something more haunted him that he couldn't quite get a handle on.

Even when he was with another patient, his thoughts drifted to his obsession. He'd find his eyes staring at the spot on his desk where he could vividly picture Will bent over it, panting with his bare ass showing. Or his gaze would shift to the bronze statue of the black Stag and he'd feel blood flow to his penis as he recalled Will's dream of being the naked conquest of a wild beast.

Before his next appointment, Hannibal enjoyed a cup of espresso and sat at his desk. He allowed himself to fully indulge in the memory of last night when Will had unwittingly come to his home, under the spell of the hypnotic suggestion he had planted in him. Hannibal pictured Will Graham sprawled on his dining room table, gasping and exhausted after their first session of the evening where he had played the part of the Stag once again. He'd taken Will in a crude rough manner, mounting him from behind as if they were two animals in heat.

But that wasn't how the evening ended—and that's what had Hannibal mystified.

He remembered leaning down close to Will's aroused penis after he'd nestled it into delicious custard as if he were plating a dish for a proper presentation. With a spoon, he doled out the unpitted cherries and carefully placed them against his girth, for blood red color. The whipped cream mounded the base of his cock, which had come to full attention with the teasing machinations of his fingers. The final touch was a subtle drizzle of chocolate sauce. He laced it down his balls and made a back and forth pattern over his creation, with a tempting dollop on the tip of his manhood that would be his first indulgence.

_'__Only one part of you is allowed to move, Will. Do not disturb my masterpiece until I take the first serving. I wish I could share, but alas, I will not share you with anyone—not even you.'_

He smiled as he remembered the wide-eyed yet hungry look on Will's face. Hannibal had wanted to kiss him right then, to plunge his tongue down his throat, but the smell of custard and Will's pre-cum had been too tempting to resist any longer.

Hannibal stepped between Will's legs as he lay at the head of the table, sprawled on his back, ready for him. He slipped his hands under Will's ass and held the firm precious flesh, staring down at his design as he breathed it in. He had buried his face in the luscious dessert that he'd made of Will's cock. He sucked in the head, doused with chocolate, and let his lips slide down the shaft as he rolled his tongue to caress Will's engorged girth. After his lips found Will's balls, he sucked them both into his mouth and delighted in the sweet and savory saltiness of his male musk.

As the gooey custard and chocolate smeared over Will's body and slid down his crack onto Hannibal's hands, he squeezed Will's butt cheeks and loved the slick, wet stickiness. He sucked and tongued Will's swelling penis, bobbing his head up and down the length of him. When he slipped two fingers into his tight anus, Hannibal teased them in and out to make Will writhe even more.

With a glance into the strategically placed mirror that he had in his dining room—he watched himself pleasure Will Graham, who moaned and prodded his hips to match the rhythm of his thrusting head. In an unexpected move, Will grabbed Hannibal's hair and forced his cock deeper down his throat. Hannibal felt the bulbous tip of Will's penis hit the back of his throat and almost gagged as it swelled. He felt Will's balls tighten and his cock stiffened. If Hannibal didn't want to swallow Will's seed, that would've been the time to pull away. He could've gripped a tight hand around his stiff penis and rubbed hard until Will came, milking him with every shudder, but that's not what happened.

Will held onto Hannibal's plunging head and forced him to swallow as he shot his hot salty seed against the back of his throat. The taste of him mixed with the sweetness of custard and chocolate and the pungent fruitiness of cherries. Hannibal breathed through his nose and swallowed fast, not thinking. Will moaned and rubbed Hannibal's head with genuine affection as he squirmed under his lips.

Hannibal had even licked him clean, which aroused Will for another go. He prepared a second helping of Will and consumed far too much sugar to allow him to sleep, but it had been worth every calorie. He suddenly realized why he hadn't gotten Will out of his mind all day. Will forcing him to suck his cock and swallow had perplexed him.

Subjecting Will Graham to post-hypnotic suggestions, where the young man gave his body to him to do with as he pleased, had been dangerous enough. The thrill of their encounters fueled his adrenaline—the hunted fucking over the hunter. Up until now Hannibal had been the dominate Stag claiming a dutiful mate who obliged his every desire. He loved the excitement of forcing Will to unknowingly bend to his power and control—enough to give himself to another man—something Will Graham in full consciousness would never do.

It had given them another deliciously intimate secret to share, but Will had turned the tables on him, and more puzzling, he had allowed it to happen. Hannibal had to admit. When he had played the part of the submissive to Will Graham—he _liked_ it.

**_Will Graham's Farmhouse_**

Will sat on the steps of his front porch wearing only jeans as he watched his dogs play in a patch of grass he needed to mow. Days off were hard for him to get motivated these days. Other than his family of dogs, he didn't give a shit about much else.

His nights were always filled with horrific dreams about dying where he might open his eyes to a bloodied corpse lying next to him, staring at him with milky white accusing eyes. His days weren't any better. They were consumed by hallucinations, headaches, lost hours of his memory, and unexplained fevers that had him choking down far too many aspirins.

His waking hours had bled into the twilight of his worst nightmares and he hadn't been able to tell the difference. He should've walked away from Jack and his demands on his psyche, but the rush of hunting killers, who were a hair's width away from his own mental instability, had kept him addicted to the work. He desperately wanted to feel he was different from those he hunted, but with each case, the lines got more blurred. He wasn't strong enough to hold on to his own sanity.

What did that say about _him_? He shoved the thought from his head. If he didn't know who he was anymore, how could he possibly be sure he hadn't teetered over a dangerous edge that made him no better than those he hunted?

Alana had been smart to stay away—for _her_ sake.

Even though she and Hannibal were the only real friends he had now, he felt an aching hole in his life where his hope of being normal with Alana had been. She was like a distant shoreline, with him adrift in a forceful current that sent him further from the safety of land, into churning dark waters. He wanted to dream of waking in her arms, feeling rested and safe—or caring for her the way she deserved to be loved—but those dreams had vanished long ago.

He fidgeted on the hard wood, unable to get comfortable, as he choked down another aspirin, dry. His ass hurt and he didn't want to think about why. He'd probably had that strange dream again, the one about the Stag, but how could he explain the chocolate stickiness on his penis. Had that been real? Katz had smelled it on him.

_Katz. God._

He'd been mortified to call Beverly Katz in the middle of the night to do a DNA swab, when all he wanted to do was take a long hot shower and scrub his skin raw. Something had made him suffer through the looks she gave him and the feel of her latex gloved fingers on his penis as she knelt in front of him, swabbing the length of his dick. Her fingers had even given him a woody. _Damn_. Will's face flushed with a heat that hadn't come from his constant fever. He didn't know how he'd ever look Katz in the eye again.

When his dog Winston ran up the porch stairs and dropped a tennis ball at his bare feet, Will shook loose his self-pity and stood to toss the ball. When he noticed a car pull into his drive, he kept the rubber ball in his hand and held on to it. He recognized the car right away.

_Alana_.

She parked at a distance from his house, not wanting to disturb the dogs' play. Alana was always thoughtful like that. She walked up the drive toward him, wearing worn jeans, a pale blue sweat shirt, and sneakers. He suddenly realized he didn't have a shirt on and got up to go inside and put one on, but she stopped him.

"I've got brothers. Don't bother dressing up for me."

When he thought about Alana these days, clothing was the last thing on his mind. He thought of her in his bed with her pale skin naked under his sheets and her dark hair splayed on his pillow. He imagined her eyes fixed on his—and not feeling awkward about staring back. His senses remembered her kisses and the smell and feel of her skin. _God_, he wanted her, but that wasn't going to happen.

He had to learn how to let Alana go.

"I'm thinking about installing a flag pole in my front yard," he said. "If my white flag is waving, that means I'm still unstable. You won't need to stop."

"I stop because I'm your friend, Will. I want to see you."

He only smiled.

If he explained how much it hurt him to see her—even as a friend, knowing that's all they could be—she might see the damaged person he'd become and realize he was beginning to give up hope of ever getting better. He wouldn't put her in the position of feeling obligated to him, if it meant she'd have to sacrifice her safety to be with him.

Will loved Alana.

He wasn't sure when his feelings for her had changed, but he would never tell her how he felt now. She deserved better.

"I was about to fix a late breakfast. You hungry?"

Will threw the tennis ball deep into the yard and watched as the dogs chased after it. Alana did too, before she turned to smile up at him, squinting into the sun.

"I could eat."

She climbed the stairs and did a surprising thing. She slipped her small hand in his and nudged closer to him, with a shy expression on her face. He felt the warmth of her body and breathed in her faint perfume that had mixed with the addictive scent of her skin and it made him blush. In that moment, Will got a glimpse of the innocent little girl Alana used to be and it only made him want to know everything about the strong woman she had become.

If he hadn't realized the instant he had fallen in love with Alana Bloom before, he got a reminder of why he would never forget her now.


End file.
